She Sings to Me
by msflorent
Summary: It's not a typical Friday night for either girl. Bonnibel visits a dive bar, and Marceline unexpectedly gains a new fan. College AU.
1. Wish I Was The Moon

This is my first ever completed, revised, re-revised, re-re-revised piece of fan fiction. I am all about constructive criticism, pointers, etc; so please feel free to critique. At this point I intend to keep the story in the realm of a one-shot, but I'm willing to expand on this and their relationship, and possibly reach M territory. For now we have a nice T rating for language and mentions of drinking. Racy, right? Enjoy.

* * *

The bar is dark, dank, smokey, and obnoxiously loud. Anyone looking at Bonnibel's pastel ensemble and nervous disposition can tell it's not the girl's typical choice for a Friday night out. Bonnibel is many things - she's logical, she's personable, she's loyal - and tonight, her loyalty to her organic chemistry study group's near-unanimous decision for a post-study-session round of cheap beer and drinking games has taken her to a dive bar, _past her bedtime mind you,_ but she remembers that she's a long way from home and needs to stay sociable if she really wants to make the college experience worthwhile. Besides, it's a Friday night. So sure, she'll pay the 6 dollar cover charge and an exorbitant amount of money for a drink she doesn't need or particularly want, and she'll be polite and engage in conversations with her party while she leans against the wall and avoids eye contact with anyone she doesn't know. She'll babysit a bottle of bitter liquid inching closer to room temperature with every passing minute. Maybe she'll even watch the girl on the small stage in the corner plucking away at a red bass.

The girl on stage is sitting on a stool. She's hunching over the bass on her lap and she's tending to the instrument with the effortless dexterity you'd expect from a seasoned veteran. It's nearly impossible to see her face behind the mess of black hair. It's even more difficult to hear her from the other side of the small, cramped room. Then she brings her head up to reach the microphone in front of her, and the girl sings out,

"_Chimney falls and lovers blaze, Thought that I was young_

_Now I've freezing hands and bloodless veins, As numb as I've become_

_I'm so tired, I wish I was the moon tonight"_

Her voice is low and soulful. Bonnibel smiles to herself and tunes out the rest of her party as she watches the girl on stage perform for an audience that probably doesn't even realize she's playing, save for the few tables by the stage filled with guys that appear to be more interested in the fact that she's a _girl _on stage as opposed to a girl on _stage_. It's not until the song gets a bit louder and more commanding of attention that the girl shakes the mess of hair out of her face, and she looks out to the crowd and meets Bonnibel's curious gaze. She smirks and strums with more enthusiasm as Bonnibel looks down at her nearly-empty bottle of beer and picks at the damp label, attempting to hide the pink creeping into her cheeks.

"_I'm so tired, I'm so tired, and I wish I was the moon tonight," _the girl finishes off the song with a quick, half-assed thank you to the audience that gives her equally half-assed applause. She hands her bass to the tech guy managing audio behind her and makes her way off the stage. She snags a beer off one of the stage side tables and takes a swig, completely ignoring the look of indignation one of the guys formerly leering at her below the stage gives her because, hey, it's kinda fucked up to steal someones drink. But it's also a little funny. She keeps walking, bottle in hand, towards Bonnibel, the girl's eye contact unflinching. She's tall and lanky and walks with purpose. She's got a mane of thick, black hair that falls to her hips and she's wearing an outfit that's so effortlessly cool, there was no way Bonnibel would have been able to pull it off, even if she wanted to. She stops directly in front of Bonnibel and simply says, "hey." She relaxes with her back against the wall and talks to Bonnibel like she's known her for years. "I don't think I've seen you in here before, have I? Look, don't take this the wrong way, but this doesn't seem like your type of hang out...not that I don't appreciate it when someone actually pays attention to what I've got going on up there... not something typical for a Friday night. So, thanks. Are you into music at all?"

"Well, uh, I don't play any instruments or know a lot about music theory, so I think it's fair to say no. Not that you weren't good, because you were! Heh, but it would be rude to not pay attention, right?" Bonnibel says sheepishly, trying to figure out exactly _why_ this girl is talking to her when there's a bar filled with people undeniably more socially apt, more interesting, and probably way more drunk than Bonnibel.

The black haired girl chuckles. "Heh, thanks. I'm Marceline, by the way. Marceline Abadeer. I'm kinda here a lot. I'm not a lush or anything, I'm friends with the guy who owns the bar and he lets me play a couple times a month. It's money and something to do. You know, to pay the rent, buy ridiculously overpriced textbooks, all that jazz. Sorry, enough about me. Tell me about yourself," She turns to lean her side against the wall and cocks her head playfully, looking Bonnibel over. Her eyes trail up to her bright pink top bun and says, "pinkie."

Bonnibel doesn't know whether to take this new nickname as a slight or not, but she's in no position to confront the taller, more confident Marceline. It's not like her unnaturally bright pink hair is something that's meant to go unnoticed. "Well actually, my name is Bonnibel and I'm here with my study group. I usually don't hang out in bars at all...like, ever...but they were pretty adamant about not spending a Friday night in after finishing up some chemistry work, but I'm sure you understand..." _Well, maybe not. _

"Nah, not really. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, you seem pretty cool, Bonnibel. Or Bonnie? Bonbon? Any of those sound better than Pinky to you?" She laughs and Bonnibel looks at Marceline with growing frustration. "Oh, come on! I'm only joking. Okay, I'm sorry, Bonnibel. Maybe after we get to know each other better I can start thinking up nicknames for you, huh?"

It's not long until Bonnibel has zoned out the rest of the increasingly inebriated crowd to talk to Marceline one-on-one about everything from the trials and tribulations of computer programming, to what restaurants in town have the cheapest food, to where they get their hair done. As it turns out, Marceline knows a thing or two about a lot of different things and she's not afraid to let it show. Bonnibel normally has a hard time being able to really click with people she doesn't know well, but she's beginning to let her guard down around Marceline. She can't tell if it's because she's on her third beer at this point or if Marceline is a genuinely chill, nice person, but last call eventually rolls around and what's left of her study group have paired off to suck face in the corner. Awkward.

It's almost 2am. Bonnibel is groggy, sufficiently buzzed, and has $22 dollars to her name after paying her tab and tipping the tattooed barkeep liberally(she doesn't speak much, but Marceline calls her Dacey). She scrolls through her phone looking for a taxi to call when Marceline offers to split the bill on a cab ride since Bonnibel's dorm is close to her apartment. Bonnibel reluctantly agrees.

"I have my own place off campus," Marceline says as they enter the cab. "Just a little walk-up, I used to live with my ex, Ash, until he started stealing my shit and selling it to seedy pawn shops. He's gone now, though. Last I heard he was grifting with some gutter punks off the interstate. Gross, right?" Bonnibel is entirely unfamiliar with her jargon but nods politely. They spend most of the ride in the back of the cab in silence, looking out the windows to see blinking neon signs and hordes of people walking home from bars. Bonnibel yawns and tries to get a grasp on where she is, both physically and mentally. The liquor is clouding her mind and she feels dizzy, moving with the car as it makes its turns and accelerates throughout the city streets. Bonnibel's heard all the cautionary stories about how absolutely _fucked_ her current scenario is. Agreeing to have a complete stranger take her home after getting way more drunk that she initially anticipated in some seedy bar, letting said complete stranger know where he room is? The whole situation is completely dangerous and her inner dialogue involves a lot of panicking and second guessing of the girl sitting across from her in the backseat of a cab that smells like puke and sweat and cheap air freshener. She fidgets with the hem of her powder blue tulle skirt, weighing out strategies of self-defense should this Marceline girl try anything unsavory.

The cab stops off at Bonnibel's dorm hall after what feels like an eternity. As she pays the driver and exits the cab, she feels like crawling all the way to her bed, but makes an effort to tough out her wobbly, alcohol-induced sea legs. Marceline seems to take note of this and opens the cab door, signaling to the driver that she'll be right back, and she grabs Bonnibel's arm and drapes it over her shoulders while reaching around her waist to support her, effectively holding the waifish girl up. Bonnibel internally panics as she realizes just how helpless she is. But Marceline just looks at her flushed face with worry.

"Okay, good. One step at a time. It's okay, you're almost there. Girl, if I had known you were this much of a lightweight I would have told Dacey to cut you off! This is all my fault. Fuck. I'm sorry." Marceline seems genuinely remorseful about letting Bonnibel get too drunk to walk and continues to hold the other girl up as she struggles to maintain her grasp.

"S'fine. Im gonna go...in there...and lay down until my eyes close..." Bonnibel says with slurred speech. The only problem is, her eyes are already closing, and Marceline is struggling to keep her up. Marceline sighs heavily and pinches the smaller girl's arm. Bonnibel yelps, then chuckles and turns to bury her face in Marceline's hair. Bonnibel breathes the thick black hair in. Marceline smells like mint and raspberry and rain. She looks up and her eyes widen as they meet Marceline's black irises. "Uh, sorry. That was totally weird of me, wasn't it?" Marceline shakes her head silently in response, and seems more concerned with Bonnibel getting into the dorm hall safely.

After a few failed attempts to slide her ID card, the door to the main hall unlocks and Marceline gets Bonnibel settled on her own two feet before letting her go. The pink-haired girl signals a farewell to her new friend, but Marceline interjects before letting her pass.

"You know, you're pretty cool, Bonnie. Here's my info if you ever wanna hang out." She smiles and puts a folded cocktail napkin in Bonnibel's hand before moving her way to the waiting cab. "Get some sleep. Oh, and I don't know how you'll be feeling tomorrow, but I can take a guess...I've left you some instructions for a good hangover remedy if you feel like I feel after a night of heavy drinking. Later." Bonnibel watches her get in the cab before she listlessly skulks to her dorm room and falls down on the bed without so much as turning on the light or removing a single article of clothing. Her unnaturally warm body sinks into the pristine pink sheets and she feels her equilibrium readjust to the feeling of her body laying down. Her head finally stops reeling as her heavy eyelids close.

Bonnibel passes out with the smell of liquor and cigarette smoke and Marceline Abadeer lingering on her clothes.

* * *

[song credit: Neko Case, I Wish I Was the Moon.]

Like I said, at this point I have an _idea_ of where I'd like to take this, but that depends on the demand for it(and my dedication to writing filler material that doesn't suck.) Please feel free to review and let me know what you think! Cheers.


	2. Pancakes and Coffee

Hey, everyone. Thanks for all the kind words of support, follows and favorites. I'm really excited(and relieved, honestly) to see people get hype about my work. Today's installment involves a hangover, anxiety, and more character development for Bonnibel. Marceline _will_ be making an appearance in the next chapter! I love writing her.

* * *

The sunlight coming through the blinds looks like something between a fluorescent light and an atom bomb exploding. The blinds on the window are doing nothing to block the light, and if anything the bright stripes of light hitting the floor are more _painful_ to look at. She rolls over, taking the blanket with her, and sees the crumpled up napkin, remembering the girl with the black hair who helped her make it home in the middle of the night. She opens it to see a name, 10 digits, and a smiley face scribbled in red ink. Further down, there's a message: "drink your coffee black and eat a big stack of pancakes. Cheers! - M"

She's groggy, she's hungry, and her head feels heavy. Her top bun, once perfect, is now a jumble of loose pink hair balled on top of her head. Needless to say, Bonnibel is experiencing her first hangover. She lies still for a couple minutes and tries to piece together the sequence of events that took place the night before. Luckily, she doesn't seem to be suffering from any blackouts, but remembering every precise detail from the night before is still labored.

Moments pass before the girl removes herself from the bed to examine herself in the mirror. Aside from her messy hair and smeared mascara, she's really no worse from wear, and finally gets out of last night's clothes to take a much-needed shower. One of the upsides of being an honors student was living in the honors dorms, where she wasn't obliged to deal with things like roommates or waiting in line to shower. It was a luxury, but Bonnibel prided herself on her academic aptitude and wasn't afraid to take advantage of certain privileges that come from her success.

The hot water feels good against her skin and she rubs her face, recollecting last night's events she believes to be true. She remembers laughing at vulgar jokes, a particularly long-winded and unsuccessful attempt to explain the ins and outs of biochemical engineering, and the way Marceline looked at her. For a split second, Bonnibel thought to herself, _she's the reason why I feel so horrible this morning,_ before shaking herself of the idea, maintaining her own dignity in knowing she was perfectly capable of not drinking as much as she did the night before. Bonnibel was _not _going to get into the business of blaming other people for her own stupid choices. She realizes her hands are getting pruney and gets out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around herself, she brushes her long, pink hair out.

Her hunger pangs are growing relentless, so she throws on a simple sundress(and her biggest, darkest sunglasses) and heads to the dining hall to try Marceline's hangover remedy. Walking across campus, the bright sun shining in her face is an obstacle, but her empty stomach is begging for sustenance. The walk is rewarded with a plate stacked with hotcakes doused in butter and syrup, and hot black coffee, which Bonnibel adds a fair amount of sugar to, if only because black coffee makes her gag. She looks down at the dauntingly large stack and thinks, _let's do this._ She cuts into the pancakes carefully and when the sweet, sugary mix of spongy pancake and syrup hits her tongue, she knows Marceline has to be alright. As she inhales the rest of her breakfast, she's grateful that no one else seems to be around, because she's not proud of herself in this moment.

She gets back to her dorm after letting her meal settle in her now placated stomach and decides to spend the rest of her Saturday doing next to nothing. The blinds are shut tightly and she spends the rest of the morning lying in bed and watching television while lulling in and out of sleep. She's still fighting the the lethargy and feelings of dehydration, but for the most part, she's handling this whole hangover thing pretty well, if she says so herself. Of course, she has a new friend to thank for the catalyst to her treatment. Remembering the cocktail napkin next to her on the bed, she brings it over to her desk and places it next to a textbook where she knows she won't forget about it.

The weekend passes uneventfully, Bonnibel spends most of it catching up on reading and talking to old friends from back home, but Marceline constantly pops up in her mind. Bonnibel makes a promise to herself to contact the girl. Maybe later in the week. As to not come off as desperate.

On Monday, she makes her way to her first class and places the napkin in her purse, just for some motivation to get in contact with Marceline. It's not until Tuesday afternoon, however, that she convinces herself that yes, she's going to utilize the information she's been given, she's going to program Marceline's number into her phone, and she's going to send her a text message because _who even uses a their phone to make calls anymore? Besides, phone calls are way more demanding and I don't want Marceline to feel pressured into a conversation when we got drunk together once, as strangers, _so text message it is.

She paces around her room, phone in hand, thinking of a good conversation opener. She tries to be cute, she tries to be funny, but nothing seems to stick and she'll be damned if her first extension of communication with someone as effortlessly cool as Marceline is as cringeworthy as a bad science pun or creepy text about their night together. So she decides to keep it simple.

It's concise, it's grammatically immaculate, it's unassuming.

"Hello, is this Marceline's phone?"

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, hits send.

* * *

Like I've said before, pointers, constructive criticism, and ideas of where you'd like to see me take this thing are wonderful and highly appreciated. I'll try to give you some more concrete romantic context in the next chapter, but I'm definitely interested in keeping things realistic(and a bit coy) at first.

I figure it's a given, but of course, I don't own Adventure Time or these two lovely ladies.


	3. Like Playing House

Hello, hello everyone! Happy Sunday. I have a beast of a chapter waiting for you below. I'm really proud of this one and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. We've got everything from character development, to domestic fluff, to drama, to someone making the moves on someone, all wrapped up with a cliffhanger. Because I love my readers. There's nothing too heavy in this chapter, but just to keep you all correctly informed, we've officially gone to an M rating.

ALSO! The new fic image is credited to Jen Wang, who makes gorgeous covers/variants for the Marceline and the Scream Queens comic series.

* * *

Time passes. The air begins to cool and the trees fall bare as autumn makes its leave for winter to make its mark on the world around them. Marceline's friendship had changed everything for Bonnibel. The girls bonded quickly and within weeks, they were attached at the hip. Today, surrounded by crowded walkways, the two sat together, watching people pass by. It's times like these Marceline likes to think of funny, embarrassing stories about the people they watch, going about their otherwise less absurd, normal lives.

Marceline, clad in a black peacoat with grey skinny jeans and black combat boots, casually leaned back against the bench with one arm draped over the back. Her sunglasses concealed her eyes, shifting from person to person to scope out the crowd for her next hapless victim. She touches Bonnibel's shoulder lightly and nods her head towards an awkward looking boy wearing a red hoodie zipped all the way up, walking fast and avoiding eye contact with anyone else.

"That guy in the red hoodie is going to meet who he _believes_ to be a girl he's been talking to online, when actually it's a lonely older woman who works in the library, but he won't be too upset, because he's secretly got a thing for cougars." She chuckles to herself and says, "your turn."

Bonnibel smiles and shakes her head, telling the girl, "You're so much better than me at this stuff." It was true. Marceline had a keen imagination, while Bonnibel's intellectual strengths involved things like mathematics, logic, and the sciences. Not to say that she didn't appreciate Marceline's talent for storytelling. Bonnibel looked around and watched a girl in an expensive looking jacket walk slowly, talking to someone on the phone. "She's...headed to her anthropology class. It's her third time taking it because she absolutely hates the subject and it'll be a miracle if she gets a C, but it doesn't really matter because she's been an undergrad for 5 years now and her parents just keep throwing money at her to keep going here. She'll be an undergrad for another 3 years."

"Way harsh, Bonbon," Marceline says, smirking at her friend's catty remark. She grabs her bag and gets up, moving to face the her sitting companion and says, "So, I gotta head to the radio station for my shift but I just wanted to run something by you...I wanna host a party at my place this weekend. Would you be down to help out?"

"Uh, yeah, sure...but I don't have a ton of experience with parties, why are you asking me?" Bonnibel asks.

"Well for one, I've been around you long enough to see you're not an irresponsible asshole, you're not a big drinker, and I don't have to think twice about the prospect of you bringing any hard drugs around, so...you're kinda the perfect co-host. Unless you had plans..." Marceline shifts her position nervously, looking at Bonnibel for an answer.

"Midterms are long gone, Marcy. I can finally take a breather from lab work for once. Yeah, I'll do it. I'd love to help you." She shrugs her shoulders, and a grin creeps up Marceline's face.

"Great. Come over on Friday around 7, alright?" Marceline waves lightly as she makes her way across campus. Bonnibel watches her go before picking up her own things and heading in the opposite direction for her noon class.

* * *

Bonnibel walks up the steps to Marceline's front door, bags of ingredients in hand. She knocks on the blue door, and hears her friend signal to come in. The living room floor is littered with boxes filled with vinyl records and floor pillows, and heavy, dark curtains line the tall windows. Marceline is in the kitchen, rearranging several different bottles of clear and amber liquids on the counter. She looks Bonnibel over and says, "You look nice, girlie. What's in the bag? If it's alcohol, I've got plenty. Maybe too much. But I never know with these people..."

Bonnibel looks down at the flour, sugar, and other ingredients waiting in the bag. "Well...I was thinking it would be nice to maybe make some cupcakes for tonight, I don't have an oven in my dorm, if you don't want me to it's totally fine, but I figure as co-host it would be a nice gesture...? Is that okay?" Bonnibel says.

Marceline looks at Bonnibel with wide, surprised eyes and laughs. "You are _so_ fucking cute. Of course you can make cupcakes here. On one condition, though, you have to let me help. It's been ages since I've used my kitchen for making food." Perhaps that's why everything looks so untouched, which clashes from the rest of what she's seen of Marceline's home.

Bonnibel likes baking. She's no professional confectioner, but one of her fondest childhood memories involves helping her mother bake cream puffs, and she's made a habit of baking for friends. Bonnibel intended to be a good host and impress her new friends tonight. The two work together well, and Marceline seems to take directions well, showing her eagerness to help. Her chaotic side, however, comes out every so often.

"Marceline, you're getting flour everywhere!" The taller girl was mixing the batter roughly, letting dry, loose flour get all over the kitchen counter. This task was going to be a bit more difficult than Bonnibel envisioned. She finished lining the cupcake trays with pastel cupcake wrappers and moved next to Marceline. "Okay, I know you're trying and I think that's really nice of you, but let me show you how to mix the batter without making a mess. You know, in your own kitchen."

Marceline groans. She's still holding onto the wooden mixing spoon as Bonnibel gets closer. Suddenly, a warm hand moves over hers and clutches onto it, moving the dry parts of the batter into the thicker, more damp mixture of ingredients in the deep center of the mixing bowl.

"Tuck and fold. All around the sides, until it's all together." Bonnibel is too wrapped up in making sure her ingredients don't go to waste to realize Marceline is blushing. Bonnibel looks up to smile, and she turns her head down quickly. "You should be alright now. Thanks again for all your help."

Moments later, Marceline is moving the batter to the pan, while Bonnibel is putting the final touches on the icing when she feels something splatter against her cheek. Marceline cackles, Bonnibel groans and wipes her face. "Honestly, Marcy! Oh, you got some on my dress!" She tries to wipe the stain away with a damp cloth, but it's not enough. "I'm gonna look ridiculous tonight."

"Oh, please, no one is gonna care. It's nothing!" She notices Bonnibel seems genuinely sad and concedes. "Okay, I'm sorry, Bonni. I didn't mean to hurt you...if you're that concerned, you can borrow something of mine for the night. I don't know if I have anything that's your style, but it's all clean..." she motions Bonnibel to come with her up the stairs to her bedroom.

Marceline's room is full of old-looking books bound in leather. More dark, heavy curtains line the windows, but these are open, and she has a perfect view of the city. Her bed is large and unkempt, with a thick notebook sitting on the comforter and a worn, ragged looking sock monkey sits between the pillows. The familiar red bass is in the corner, and on the nightstand is what appears to be a framed picture of a young Marceline between a man in a business suit and a woman, smiling sweetly with thick black hair similar to Marcy's own. Marceline opens the closet door and Bonnibel is shocked to see one half of the closet filled with her usual dark streetwear and the other half filled with priceless vintage designer pieces and furs. "Take your pick. Honestly, have at it." Marceline sits down on the end of her bed and closes the well-worn notebook.

"I didn't want to ask, but Marcy, how can you afford all this? I thought you were some starving art student, but your apartment is suspiciously nice." Bonnibel feels guilty for even asking.

"Well, if you must know..." she shifts a little and sighs. "My dad kind of runs a multi-million dollar defense contract company. For what it's worth, I think his work is morally reprehensible in the highest order and I totally disagree with it, but he pays my bills, so maybe I'm a hypocrite. He's not a horrible person, though. He's just not around much. Anyways, if you're curious, the _really_ nice clothes belonged to my mom."

The word _belonged _sticks out like a sore thumb. This is the first time Bonnibel's heard anything about Marceline's family life. "I'm sorry, Marcy."

"She died when I was really young. She was in Asia on some business trip, but that's all I know. Dad doesn't like to talk about it." An awkward silence fills the room for a moment before Marceline breaks it, and says, "So...yeah. Like I said, have at it. Pick yourself out something nice."

Bonnibel's fingers lightly graze the clothes and decides to keep it simple. She avoids the beautifully embroidered dresses and ensembles on one end of the closet, sticking with the leathers and denim she's accustomed to seeing Marceline wear. She pulls out a pair of dark jeans and eyes a black shirt with a bizarre graphic on them. It looks like two cinnamon rolls on pikes impaling a snake.

Marceline audibly gasps and says, "I thought that shirt was lost to the ages! Oh, please wear it! I made that testing out a screen print in a couple years ago. So...it's kinda like the most awesomely unique shirt in existence. You _have _to wear it, Bonni. It suits you."

"Well, if you insist...it's kinda neat, actually." Bonnibel's never seen Marceline this excited about a t-shirt before, and her friend has a love for fashion, so it must be pretty great. Not thinking much of what she's doing, she takes off her flats and unzips her dress. She's down to a demure nude bra and a pair of matching, frilled panties.

Marceline is _shocked._ "Well. This is a new side of you." She tries to look away, having a fervent internal debate of how to respond. _Do I cover my eyes? Will she be insulted if I do? Should I watch? What's she trying to tell me? Is she even trying to tell me anything? _Before Marceline can make a sound decision, Bonnibel's zipping up the jeans and readjusting the shirt. The jeans, suited for someone taller, are coming down over her small ankles, so Bonnibel bends down to fold the bottoms over, giving the jeans a cuffed look. She looks at herself in the mirror, shaking her hair out, and admires her new look.

"Thanks, Marcy. I look pretty good, if I say so myself." She turns around to face her friends and says, "so when is everyone gonna be here?"

"I dunno. We've got a couple more minutes. Why?" She leans against the bed and uncrosses her legs.

"Can I try something?" The question is rushed and quiet.

"O...kay?" Before she can contemplate her friend's open-ended question, Bonnibel is standing over Marceline. She leans down and moves the other girl's chin upward. Bonnibel lightly presses her lips against the other girl's own. Marceline knows she isn't thinking straight, but she moves forward and puts her hands on Bonnibel's hips to pull her in closer, lightly biting at her bottom lip to give her tongue access to Bonnibel's mouth. Bonnibel returns the gesture by putting her arms around Marceline's neck, and in losing her balance, she accidentally pushes her down against the mattress with her body on top of Marceline. Their legs are entwined. Bonnibel feels Marceline's thigh push up against her crotch and her body jerks against the sensation, and she brings her head up to gasp. She looks down at Marceline, who bites her lip and grins as she continues to grind her leg against the heat between her legs. Not a word is exchanged before Bonnibel starts kissing her again, rocking her hips back and forth against the pressure of Marceline's thigh. Her breathing becomes short and heavy and she's feeling better and better with every movement of her hips, when they both hear a loud knock from downstairs.

Bonnibel immediately rolls herself off Marceline and tries to compose herself as Marceline sighs in disappointment, her entire body limp against the bed. She wordlessly gets up and smoothes out her hair, making her way downstairs to greet the first guests. Bonnibel waits a minute or two before she makes her way back downstairs, taking everything in and trying to get a grasp on what she just initiated. While she didn't intend to take things that far, everything in that moment felt right, and she wonders what Marceline is going to say about it when they're alone again - if she even says anything at all. Marcy has been in her life for a little while now, and she just heard the first details about her family life. She wasn't exactly an open book, but Bonni respects this and doesn't push anything out of her. The ache in her core lingers as she goes downstairs to see Marceline talking up a group of guys, and waves Bonnibel over to introduce everyone. Marceline seems completely relaxed and unfazed by what just took place as she chats up the guests. Bonnibel takes this as a sign to perk up and she heads to the kitchen, remembering the abandoned cupcake batter.

* * *

The evening goes on without a hitch and the house gets more congested with people standing around, talking and dancing. Bonnibel makes her way about the apartment, making sure everyone is doing alright and making polite small talk. Marceline is sitting on her couch, surrounded by people, laughing and bouncing jokes off the others. She thrives in social situations like this. She looks up to meet Bonnibel's eyes and shouts out, "Bonni! Get over here, I want you to meet someone!"

Marceline is sitting next to a girl with a thick afro. She's wearing a short green dress and white knee high socks. Marceline excitedly introduces her to Bonnibel. "This is Keila, we've been best friends since we were kids, she's the best fucking guitar player on the planet. I'm so psyched you two finally get to meet."

Keila seems relaxed and soft-spoken. She extends her hand to a quick shake and says, "Yeah, nice to meet you. Marcy's told me a ton about you."

"Yeah, it's good to meet you, too. She's mentioned you before as well, but I don't think I'm as interesting as you," Bonnibel responds.

Keila responds with a throaty laugh. "Oh, hush. Sit down! Chill with us. Marcy said you worked your ass off helping her get the place ready, relax a bit, eh?"

Bonnibel plops down on one of the floor pillows and relaxes. They all talk for a bit, and she can sense Keila and Marcy are really close. She's flattered that Marceline would tell someone as important as Keila about her. Taking in the moment, Bonnibel looks around the room to see that her work hasn't gone unnoticed. She thought house parties typically had a reputation for being ragers, filled with annoying creeps, but everything seems perfect. She looks up at Marceline, who immediately meets her gaze and smiles. Yeah, this was making for a good, drama-free night. She excused herself from the room and weaved through the crowd to make her way to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water. She stands alone a moment, contemplating what happened between her and Marceline earlier that evening. Was she too forward? Will this complicate things? From the looks of it, Marceline wasn't entirely bothered by Bonnibel's actions, if anything, she seemed just as into it as herself. It was then that Bonni decided that they would sit down and discuss what it meant for them. It would have to happen sometime soon, away from other people...perhaps a bedroom again.

The sounds coming from the living room got a bit rowdier then, Bonnibel could hear people shouting and laughing loudly. She initially shrugged it off as some of Marceline's more wild friends making an entrance, until she heard a familiar voice rise up.

"What the _FUCK _do you think you're doing here?" It was Marceline. Bonnibel had never heard her sound so angry. Assuming the worst, Bonnibel made a beeline through the gathering crowd of people to see her friend standing tall and facing a particularly nasty-looking group of guys, in the middle was a young man with a white, deflated mohawk, dressed in black. He was trying to corral Marceline into a bear hug as Marcy pushed him off, shouting, "get OUT, you scumbag!"

Bonnibel found Keila and stood by her, watching intently. "Um...hey, Keila? Who is that guy?"

"That," Keila said with contempt, "is Ash."

* * *

With that, I give you good news and bad news.

Good news: There's more lady loving to come next chapter. You're welcome.

Bad news: The new semester starts tomorrow and I'm going back to my full-time status at work as of this evening, so I'll be quite busy for a while. In regards to the next chapter, I know what I want to do from here, I just need to actually write it. Don't worry, this fic is my pride and joy, and I don't want to abandon it. Just understand I've got a lot going on and I'll try to give quality updates on a somewhat regular basis.


	4. Stay the Night

To quote our pink-haired protagonist, Princess is BACK! I come bearing questionable conflict resolution and filthy, horrible, offensive language no one should ever read. Keila and Guy are from the comic miniseries _Marceline and The Scream Queens_, which every Adventure Time fan should familiarize themselves with, imo. Those two will be in more chapters as well. Anyways...onward, dear readers!

* * *

Marceline is _trying_. She's trying to stifle her rightfully placed rage, and she's trying to get her manipulative, chauvinistic, kleptomaniac ex-boyfriend out of her house without causing much more of a scene. She's disgusted knowing he thinks he can walk in like he's still welcome there, as if Marcy's stupid enough to just forget about all the horrible things he did to her when they were together.

"I don't want this to escalate any further. Leave. Now." She notices a few guys making their way to the scene to likely defend her honor, a move she's more annoyed than flattered by.

Ash clearly doesn't get it. Laughing, he interjects, "Aw, c'mon, Mar Mar! We were in the neighborhood looking for some fun, we used to throw the best parties together, babe. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that I made the mistake of trusting you. You stole from me, you lied to me, you dragged my friends into your psychotic mind games, and now you're disrespecting me in front of everyone in _my _house, trying to reconcile when I don't care about you and I don't want to see you any more. I'll say it one more time, then that's it. _Leave._" She's moving to back him into the foyer, when she sees Bonnibel approaching in the corner of her eye and her stomach drops. _Oh, please, Bonni...stay away from him._

Bonnibel stands beside Marceline, arms crossed. "What do you even want? She clearly doesn't want to see you, and I think I speak for both Marcy and I twofold when we ask you to leave."

Ash scoffs and ignores Bonnibel's more placated request, looking to Marceline. "Who is this dork dressed up in your clothes, Mar? Your new charity case?"

"That girl has done more for me in the two months I've known her than you did for me in 3 long years," Marceline bites back.

"Yeah, alright. I'll believe it when I see it." Ash lessens the gap between himself and Marceline as she tenses up, bracing to fight back if he tries anything. " I just think you should know, you're nothing without me. You're just some poseur rich girl using up daddy's money on records you don't even care about to impress your fake friends. I _made_ you, cunt."

Before Marceline can even think to react, a pale, freckled fist collides with Ash's cheekbone, knocking him to the ground.

"OWWOWOW! Ow." Bonnibel is shaking her right hand out as she rocks herself, letting the adrenaline in her system run it's course. _She did it._ She punched Ash right in his ugly, smug face. Marceline doesn't know how to react, but before she can look towards Bonnibel, Keila grabs Ash's assailant to go get ice for her hand, looking to Marceline as she walks away, mouthing "_oh my god!"_

Marceline takes the opportunity to further her point. Standing above Ash's body, she pushes the end of her boot against his stomach as a grim gesture of what's to come if he doesn't heed her words. "I meant what I said. Every word of it. Get your people, leave my house before _I _start wailing on you."

Ash is still in shock as he rises. He cradles his cheek and leaves the house wordlessly, his group trailing behind him. Marceline stands outside to make sure they're gone for good before she runs back inside to check on Keila and Bonnibel, who are now sitting on the couch. Bonnibel's hand is covered with a bag filled with ice. She looks up at Marceline.

"I only hurt my hand because I didn't brace myself correctly. I just get really upset when I see people getting verbally abused and all. I'm sorry."

Marcy's touched by Bonnibel's genuine, albeit violent act, and sits beside her to throw her arms around her affectionately. "Thank you, Bonni. That was absolutely badass. I didn't know you had it in you. And you, Keila, are an angel for looking after this little hellion."

Keila shakes her head and laughs to herself. "You were right about this one, Marcy. She really is something else."

* * *

Hours pass and the night turns into the wee hours of the morning as the crowd lets up. The party has taken a significantly more intimate tone as a handful of Marceline's closest friends all sit around the living room, carrying on about nothing in particular. Marcy's brought her bass down for a lazy solo jam session. She sits in a secluded, plush armchair and her eyes are cast downward, paying careful attention to her own fingers as they graze the strings, listening closely to the sounds they make.

Bonnibel is curled up on the couch, rubbing a cool bag of ice her hand. It still feels a little sore and she feels guilty about punching someone she's never even met before, but she seems to be the only one in the room who disapproves of the act, so she keeps mum about her regret. Keila has been exceptionally friendly and attentive to her. She's sitting next to Bonnibel and flirting with a shaggy-haired young man named Guy. Sensing a window of time, Bonnibel turns to Keila, asking, "So, you said Marcy's told you about me. What kind of things did she say, if you don't mind me asking?"

"The one thing she likes about you in particular...she says that you actually listen to her. I don't know if you know this, but Marceline is really self conscious about being genuinely _liked_. She's always been wary of what other people think of her. I know she's really good at hiding it, but she doesn't think she's interesting, for whatever reason...but she thinks the world of you for your kindness. So I suppose that's why you're here...and I suppose _you're_ here for the right reasons, which explains that," she japes, eyeing Bonnibel's bruising knuckles. "I'm sure you can figure it out by now, but Marcy gets a lot of attention from the wrong kind of people…"

"She mentioned her dad being ridiculously wealthy, running a massively successful Defense Contracting company and all…"

"Yep. Put two and two together and you've got a mess of presumptuous suitors looking to get closer to billions of dollars she'd prefer to have nothing to do with. Anyways, I think me and Guy are gonna get out of here. Nothing good happens after 3 A.M. It was really nice meeting you though, Hopefully we can all get together sometime." They say their goodbyes, everyone else takes note of the dwindling number of guests and makes their way out. Marceline plays the good host, making sure everyone gets home safely.

As soon she she says the last of her goodnights and locks the front door, Marceline makes her way to Bonnibel and hugs her tight. "Thank you...for everything."

Bonnibel puts her arms around Marceline's waist, responding, "It's nothing. I'm not proud of myself for resorting to violence like that…"

Marceline shakes her head. "You did what you had to. I'm already in your debt for all the work you did tonight, but I just needed to ask you something."

"Go on." Bonnibel's heart is in her throat when she's taken back to the events that unfolded before the party was underway.

"Would you maybe crash here with me for the night?" Marceline pauses and a moment. Eyes downcast, she continues. "Having to deal with Ash again was kind of traumatic for me. I'm not proud, but hey...if there's anyone who's gonna help me shake that whole thing off, it's you, right?"

Bonnibel answers, "Well, I wasn't looking forward to walking home this late anyway, so thank you for the offer. It would be nice to spend the night here with you."

"Make yourself at home. You can have my bed. I'll crash on the couch once you're asleep," she says, making her way upstairs. "Feel free to raid the kitchen, use the shower, anything."

Bonnibel declines the offer of food or a shower, and instead follows her to the bedroom and lays down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Marceline stands near the door silently for a moment before she makes her way to sit at the corner of the bed. She touches Bonnibel's leg lightly. Bonnibel looks her way, making eye contact. Neither have said a word since they've stepped into the room, but Marceline's eyes say everything. There's hunger there. As she brings herself closer to Bonnibel, the palm of her hand makes its way up higher, up to her thigh, finally dipping between her legs to delicately graze her covered mound.

Marceline allows her hand to linger there for a moment while she looks at Bonnibel and asks, "Is this alright?"

Bonnibel responds quietly, "Please, keep going," obviously making an effort to resist becoming too vulgar in vocalizing her desire. She spreads her legs to allow Marceline better access to the sensitive area covered by tight denim.

The answering action is wordless, and Marceline places herself between Bonnibel's legs to look her over completely. She brings her head down and presses her lips against Bonnibel's, feeling small, warm hands grazing the small of her back as she slips her tongue inside her mouth. A moment later she's nibbling and biting on her ear, enjoying the sounds she makes. The building tension between them convinces Marcy to make her move, whispering into Bonnibel's ear,"Tell me what you want."

"I want _you_." She's breathless and flush with need as she unbuttons her tight jeans, and Marceline grabs at the sides to help tug them off from above, throwing them across the room before peeling her own shirt off in a fit of urgency. "Let me…" Bonnibel doesn't finish her statement before her hands are working off Marceline's pants.

Bonnibel trails a hand up to graze one of Marceline's breasts, lightly teasing the hardening, rosy peak through the thin material of her bra. Marceline moves to straddle the girl beneath her, grabbing Bonnibel's other hand and placing it on her breast to signal her to caress both in symmetry. She rocks her hips as Bonnibel pushes her own upward, enjoying the warmth they're building up together from the friction. Their bodies rock together as the city lights from the window illuminate the room, casting soft lights against their bodies. Marceline calls out, "Bonni, I need _more_…" She emphasizes her request by dipping her hand into her panties, rubbing her nub in a circular motion, eye contact unwavering. "Please...give me more."

Bonnibel takes her hands down and slowly, carefully follows Marceline's movements. She's never touched another girl like this before, but she tries to remember all the things she does to herself in the dark when she imagines doing things just like this. With one hand on Marceline's hip, she uses the other to reach into the girl's panties, dipping two fingers between her outer lips in search of her clit, rubbing the bud with her fingertips. Marceline cries out and hunches forward, causing Bonnibel's fingers to work her over with more pressure.

"_Fuck…_that's so good…don't stop…"

Marceline's breathing becomes heavier and shorter as she feels herself inching closer to her release with every movement of her hips. She bucks against the slick fingertips, while Bonnibel uses the shift in Marceline's position to push her fingers into her tight entrance, thrusting in and out delicately and intently while she keeps her thumb rolling firmly against Marceline's nub. A few more thrusts are enough to send Marceline over the edge, and she finally cries out as she comes, rolling her head back as she shudders in ecstasy.

Riding out the waves of pleasure moving through her core, Marceline brings herself down to press her lips against her lover's in silent thanks. She moves her head down further to nip at the flushed skin of Bonnibel's neck, sucking and biting until she's gasping out, begging for a release from the sensation.

"My turn," Marceline says with a hint of mischief in her voice. Bonnibel watches as Marceline moves to place herself eye-level with the delicate cotton panties guarding her wetness. She looks up to bite her lip and smirk before removing them, exposing Bonnibel entirely from the waist down.

"I like you like this, Bonni... on your back, legs spread, still wearing my shirt, so turned on because of _me_…"

She takes one finger and places its entirety inside Bonnibel swiftly, causing her to tense up and yelp. Marceline thrusts in out and slowly as she feels Bonnibel's walls clench against the long, calloused finger inside. Marceline looks up, gently coaxing the her to relax.

"It's alright, baby girl. I've got you..." She kisses Bonnibel's soft thighs lightly before using her lips to envelop her clit, lapping away and enjoying her sweetness.

Bonnibel throws her head back against the pillows and opens her mouth, silently basking in the new sensation of a warm tongue against her most sensitive area. She grabs a handful of Marcy's thick black hair and pushes herself up higher against Marcy's mouth, feeling her respond by pushing one more finger inside her while moving her tongue against her small nub with more fervor.

"Oh, _wow_…"

Bonnibel savors the feeling of being filled as Marceline thrusts her fingers in and out, moving her wrist to twist them, causing Bonnibel to give in to the pressure building inside. Feeling the waves of warmth shower her entire body, she bites down against her knuckle, stifling her instinct to moan loudly as Marceline thrusts harder. Marceline feels the hand in her hair tug tighter in response to this, and she softens her movements when she feels Bonnibel's walls begin to contract against her with less strength.

The two look at each other and smile. After Marceline removes herself from between Bonnibel's legs, she wipes her mouth and lays beside the other girl, propping herself up on her side to admire Bonnibel's afterglow. They lay together in silence before Marceline speaks up.

"So, Bonni."

"Yes, Marcy?"

"I think I'd like to sleep right here with you tonight, if that's alright."

"Thank you. That would make me very happy." She plants a chaste peck on Marceline's cheek before tucking herself underneath the thick comforter.

Bonnibel drifts asleep with a small smile on her face almost immediately, while Marceline lies still and enjoys the silence. She lies awake until the early morning sky begins to illuminate with the rising sun, rays of light seeping through the city's looming skyline. She gets up to close the curtains of the bedroom window before finally, blissfully, passing out besides Bonnibel.

* * *

Writing smut is way harder than I thought it would be. Kudos to those of you who write it regularly.

Like I've said before, I love and appreciate all your feedback. There's plenty more to come.

(Disclaimer: I don't own Adventure Time or the any of the characters in this fic.)


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